


And so we survive

by shadows_of_1832 (SaoirseVictoire)



Series: To Fly and to Fall [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: EnjonineWeek2019, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, day 3: fallen, injury and failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832
Summary: The barricade has fallen. Those they care about are gone. Such facts neither ignore.





	And so we survive

Eponine watches from the side of the bed, focusing on the faint rise and fall of his chest. Now and again, she reaches and dabs the sweat on his forehead from the summer heat. His shoulder was now wrapped in bandages after the doctor had removed the bullet, and same for his leg. No fever or infection as of yet; a lucky one.

He’s alive, at least for now. The worst is over.

The barricade has fallen. They are out of Paris, with little to survive besides the clothes on their backs. She had been grateful the doctor had been kind enough to help with what little there was to offer, and she’s grateful to the innkeepers for the temporary work and their silence in exchange for food and shelter. While she’s certain no one with authority is looking for him, she hopes that their discretion will be useful should the need arise.

“Look what your beliefs have done to you,” she murmurs. “Your dream’s nearly killed you, still might.”

She then rises to her feet to change into borrowed clothes and to get to work.

When she returns late at night, she finds Enjolras sitting up in the bed, a single candle lit beside him as he goes through a small book.

“You should be sleeping,” she says, taking off the apron she wore while cleaning. “Has the laudanum wore off?”

“I am well enough,” he replies, his voice tired.

She nods, walking towards the open window. She looks out to the dirt road below, seeing no movement beyond the flickers of streetlamps. “Once you’re recovered, or at least healed to a certain extent, we’ll continue on. A small town, surrounded by farmland…nowhere anyone can find us. South would be best.”

The only response she receives are the crickets chirping and distant barking outside.

She turns, finding he’s closed and set the book aside, and he’s staring at the burning candle.

“I should have stayed in Paris,” he says, his breath shaking and cracking. “I should have stayed with them, I should have—”

“Hush.” Eponine rushes from the window to bed, sitting down. A part of her wants to reach out, brush the hair from his face, embrace him and tell him everything will be all right, give him comfort the same way she would desire it for herself, as she does want it for herself, her own brother now gone in the same battle that destroyed his friends. But such gestures she knows, or at least believes, are too intimate for him. And so she settles for clasping his hands, careful not to disturb his injured shoulder, and tries not to work herself up despite feeling the tears in her eyes. “Please, please don’t think like that.”

He takes a deep breath and it wavers. His eyes are red-rimmed. He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “Why am I still here? Why are they not? Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Gavroche…all of them…Why was it me that lived and them who died?”

Tears start to streak her cheeks as she struggles to compose her voice enough to answer. “I don’t know…I…”

She watches a tear fall from his eye, and she chokes on her words. Despite her inner protests and what she knows of him, she lets herself fall into him, resting her head on his chest, minding his shoulder. His arms wrap around her, awkward at first, then relaxed.

“He was only a boy, only a child…” she cries. “He…Gav…a child, they…they killed a child.”

His chest heaves, struggling for an even breath.

She doesn’t know how long they remain like this before she falls asleep. She remembers a few soft murmurs before opening her eyes to the sunlight peering through the window and the candle burned out. She turns her head, his eyes closed and his breathing soft.

“We’ll be all right,” she whispers, her arm reaching up and brushing his hair from his face. “We’ll survive this together. One day...one day at a time.”

For a faint moment, she sees a small smile on his face.


End file.
